


I thought you cared

by astrokyle



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: M/M, Multi, Sad, Very small amount of blood, depresso expresso, it’s 7am and i haven’t slept no yet someone save me, much sad, oh yeah
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-10
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-07-10 14:58:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15951704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astrokyle/pseuds/astrokyle
Summary: The wars finally over and everyone’s making their home plans a reality, but some plans change.





	I thought you cared

**Author's Note:**

> hello. please help.  
> it’s 7am and i don’t even know if this is actually sad because i cried when i wrote the word over and it’s the 2nd one in the story lord help me

“So that’s it? It’s over?”

Simmons doesn’t dare turn around. His hands press deeper in the pockets of his old jeans, his fingers clawing into the fabric, willing his tears away. 

He bites hard on his lip, it stings. When he swallows the panic building in his throat, it tastes metallic. It’s unpleasant, and reminds him of all times his armor didn’t do its job.

His mind reels, wandering into unwanted territory. Don’t think of Blood Gultch. Don’t think of Chorus. Don’t think of the Temple of Procreation and everything in between. 

“You can’t even answer me.” Its bitter. The tone Grif scoffs and the pang in Simmons chest. 

The mechanics in his ribs are whirring harder, the exhaust fan in his shoulder starting up. It blows against the short sleeves of his shirt. 

God he doesn’t want to answer him. He knows he has to, yet still clings to his fifth amendment in a vice grip. As soon as it slips through his grasp everything that’s made him so happy, that’s kept him going through this finally ending war, goes with it.

“Look at me.” Simmons shakes his head, his head pounding on the end of each movement. Wetness flows down his cheek, the heavy plating and the small itch where it meets the skin at the bridge of his nose reminding him why it’s only one. “I said look at me!”

Simmons clenches his teeth as he feels the warmth tugging at his shoulder, gnawing at his resolve. When he jerks his arm out of reach, a new wave of tears cascades down, “Just stop!”

“Why are you doing this? What-“ he hears the cried sob hat was obviously meant to be muffled, “What happened to Hawaii- to the one bedroom apartment just outside the city?”

Close enough to the beach but far enough from the traffic. 

“I don’t know what your talking about.”

“Bullshit!” there’s thundering crash behind him, his ears ring, “It was your fucking idea! I wanted to live on the beach- But no! Your pussy ass didn’t want to live in a crowded area, meaning I’d have to commute 45 minutes to even see the water- but I was with you so it- it didn’t fucking matter!-“

“Grif, please.”

“I just wanted to be with you- but you-“ he cuts himself off with a large shaky gasp, “you didn’t even _fucking_ care.” Grif is sobbing by the end of his speech. It feels like a punch to the gut. 

What happened to not giving a shit Grif? To refusal of any kind of healthy communication Grif? To lazy, not sobbing into his forearm as he breaks Simmons heart Grif? 

“I do care-“

“Then why are you doing this! I thought you were happy- we were happy!”

“I-“ He was, god he’d never been happier in his entire fucking life, “It’s better this way.”

There’s a pass of silence. He squeezes his eyes shut and makes a move towards the door. “Simmons, please!”

“Grif, It’s over,” the cut on his lip reopens, he teeth digging into the wound, tears falling over his mouth and off his chin.

He rushes forward, his vision hazy, and lifts a weak, restless hands to the door handle. He pushes down and tugs himself forward, forcing himself out the door. He thinks about saying goodbye, but knows he wouldn’t be able to.

He wouldn’t be able the close the door behind him and leave without Grif. 

So he doesn’t. He slams the door shut, the crack cutting off Grifs cries, and stumbles around the corner. His hand mouth flys to his mouth as he finally breaks down. 

His back screams when he slams against it, a crinkled noise following as he slides down the wall. 

He snarls, ripping his hands into his pocket and crumbling the paper he pulls out. The fancy cursive ink smearing as his wet skin drags across it. 

The paper slices his finger, “Fuck!”

He throws his head back, slamming it on the wall. “Fuck!”

Then with a dull pain pulsing in the back of his eyes and the note still crumpled in his grasp, he buries his face in his knees, “Fuck.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed!!
> 
> Feedback is Appreciated <3


End file.
